“Is it making you want to go back to your old ways?”
“Not at all. I’ll never steal again.” She managed a smile. “I want to do a good job for you and I’m worried that I won’t be able to.”
“You can only do what you can do. Stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”
She stared into his eyes. He was so kind, so nice. Why hadn't she met someone like him when she was younger? Much, much younger. If she had, she might’ve led a different life, stayed on the straight and narrow path.
He was someone worthy to give herself to. She’d never met anyone quite like him. He was honest and ethical. Would he ever see himself with someone like her?
“What's on your mind?” he asked.
She realized she'd been staring at him. She swallowed a mouthful. “The shooting. It’ll haunt me for days and weeks, probably months, the image of them both lying there like that, helpless, while so many people just stared at them.”
“There were a couple of people helping.”
“I know that. I'm not saying that nobody was helping, but it freaks me a little bit that Tosh had no idea he was walking out of the building to his death. He probably had visions of himself dying of old age surrounded by his family and loved ones. Not lying in a pool of blood, shot by someone for goodness knows why.”
“We all know the risks of the job. Before we start it.”
“Of course and you're making the world a better place. And you're very much appreciated. At least by me. The FBI does a great job.”
“Thanks, Gretel.” His lips twitched upward at the corners.
“I mean it.”
“I'm sure you do.”
She’d never done anything selfless in her life, apart from watching Star Wars or Batman movies with Kent. That was a huge sacrifice. Risking her own life for the betterment of others was something she’d never do.
He would only look at a woman like her in some kind of alternate universe where a person’s past didn’t matter, but the past did matter. She couldn’t escape it and she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that.
Her past was who she was.
Jack was too different from her.
He was too good, too much a person of the light, and if by some miracle they got into a relationship she couldn’t always pretend—always be fake, like she was being fake with him now.
Not forever.
Her true colors would reveal themselves and he’d know who she was. Know she was full of darkness.
The last thing she wanted to see was him looking at her with disappointment in his eyes.
Chapter Nine
When they got back to his office, Gretel sat on a chair while Jack sat behind his desk.
“Do we have to work on this diamond stealing scenario today? Couldn’t we leave that until tomorrow?” Gretel asked.
He shook his head. “People are depending on us and I’m sure you’ll want to impress everyone by doing a good job. We can’t let what happened to Tosh and Monica, as tragic as it is, affect our personal performance.”
“It’s kind of hard not to.”
“I know, but that’s how it’s got to be.”
Gretel nodded. “I understand. I’ll try to put it out of my head.” She drank the last of her coffee thinking about Kent. She was aching to tell him what had just happened. He might be able to find something out.
“Did I mention that tomorrow morning we meet with the auction house's head of security?”
“No, you left that part out.”
“We’ll be working together with him closely. He is delighted that we've got you on board.”
Gretel was surprised by that. “He is?”
“That's right.”
“Where is the diamond right now?”
“It's in the vault at an undisclosed location.”
“Does that mean I can't know where it is?”
“Even I don't know where it is.”
“Well, how are we supposed to figure this out then?”
“Our job only starts when the diamond is in the building.” He tapped on the plans.
“That's a bit odd. As you said, the changeover and transport is surely a big security risk.”
“I know but we can only work within the bounds we've been given.”
“That's not right. You're the FBI; you should be able to do something about that. Move some mountains. Surely that's all in a day’s work.”
“You overestimate the power I have.”
“Maybe it's just that someone doesn't want me to know where the diamond is. They're afraid I'm going to penetrate some vault with thirty-two-foot concrete walls.”
“I'm sure that's not the case.”
“I'm not so sure about that.”
“Well let's just say someone did steal this diamond. How easy would it be to get rid of?”
“There are always buyers. There’ll be a buyer out there somewhere ready to snap it up.”
“Would they re-cut it?”
“It depends. Not necessarily, but when they're ready to move on, that would probably be the safest way to go.”
“That's something to think about, but I don't want us to get ahead of ourselves.”
“Do they think that someone's going to steal the diamond or are they just taking precautions?”
“I haven't been informed of anything. We're just on the security team. As you keep saying, it’s not going to be easy for someone to steal it.”
“That makes things a bit easier.”
“Our job is trying to work out what someone might do and then figure out how that can be prevented.”
She nodded. She’d heard him saying that before. “I know that, Jack, but I’m just feeling under pressure at the moment. I can't think straight.” She rubbed her head. “I keep thinking of the shooting.”
“I know. It's hard, but the show must go on. We must keep doing our jobs to protect the country.”
She wanted to roll her eyes but stopped herself. What she had to do was protect herself and her family. The country could wait; she wasn't patriotic.
Jack’s phone sounded. It was a text. He took it out of his pocket and looked down at it. “Monica can have visitors now. She’s in stable condition. Do you want to come?”
“I’ll come for the drive and wait in the car.”
On the way to the parking lot, he got a phone call and from what she heard of the conversation, it was information about the shooting. The call ended just as he reached the car.
“What did you find out?” Gretel asked just as she got into the passenger seat.
He got in beside her and clipped his belt. “A 22 caliber pistol was used. Normally that’s not going to do a huge amount of damage. Why didn’t they use a bigger firearm?”
“I don’t know.”
As he backed the car out, he said, “He was shot by a 9mm. She was shot with a 22 caliber pistol.”
“And, pardon my ignorance, but what does that all mean?”
“Two shooters. One meant to kill Tosh, the other … maybe to shoot at Monica to harm her, but not kill her. It’s odd.”
“But if it was a drive-by shooting, how can they be so accurate? He was shot straight through the heart, she was shot in the shoulder.”
“There were many bullets fired, not just two.”
“That’s awful. It’s a wonder more people weren’t killed.”
“It’s a possibility one of the shooters was on the roof of a nearby building.”
“That would make more sense. Not that I know too much about guns.” She knew how to load and fire one, but that was about it.
“My colleagues are going all out to get the people behind the shootings. The FBI is taking this personally. If people feel they can shoot members of the intelligence community and get away with it, they’re wrong. Dead wrong.”
The closer they got to the hospital the more Gretel felt uneasy. “I have a confession to make. I really don't like hospitals.”
“Have you spent a lot of time in them?”
“Not much, just when I’ve been visiting people but even so that was too often. Then there was the time I was dragged in as a kid. My parents took me to the hospital to see a psychiatrist, who they told me was a counselor, but looking back I know it was a psychiatrist.”
“Why would they do that?”
She was pleased he looked surprised. “I stole money from the church collection.”
“And with your father being a minister, I can understand him being upset about that.”
“Upset doesn't even begin to describe it. They called me all the names under the sun until I went to the psychiatrist. He must've told them not to say those things anymore.”
“Sounds like that was a hard time for you.”
“From the moment I was born, it was a hard time for me living in a household of people that were nothing like me. I always felt different, an outsider. I better be quiet, you're not my therapist. You might start charging me.”
He glanced at her. “Do you have a therapist?”
“No, I don't need one thank you.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Everybody needs someone to talk with now and again.”
“They're all a bunch of quacks if you ask me. You can't put people into a mold like a Jell-O mold to have them all the same. People aren't cookies cut from the same cookie cutter.”
“That’s true and it’d be a boring world if we were all the same.”
He turned the car into the hospital parking lot. Gretel inhaled deeply to calm herself.
“Church collection money, eh?” He laughed.
“It might be funny looking back at it, but it certainly wasn't funny for them.”
He turned to face her. “What made you do it?”
She stared into the distance as she thought back. “I don’t know. It was there. I really didn’t want the money. It felt good getting away with it. It’s silly really. I’m glad I’m past all that. Going to prison really turned my life around.”
“Is that what you told the psychiatrist, about getting away with it?”
“Believe it or not, he never asked me directly, just tried to get me to talk about things that had nothing to do with anything. Anyway, you go see Monica. I’ll wait here.”
“I’ll tell her you said hello.”
She knew he was joking. “Please don’t.”
As soon as he got out of the car, she didn’t feel safe. She opened the door and got out. “Maybe I’ll just wait in the waiting area.”
He nodded.
They went up in the elevator to the private ward. It was Ward 3 on the third floor. As soon as they stepped out of the elevator, Gretel realized it was nothing like the dull gray hospital her parents had taken her. This one seemed more homelike, with plush carpets and large artworks on the walls.
“I’ll ask at reception which room she’s in.”
“There’s an area with some chairs. I’ll wait right there.”
He nodded and left her there while he headed to the desk. She sat on the soft seat, picked up a glossy home magazine on the table next to her and flipped through it. Two nurses walked past, chatting as if they were in no hurry.
She thought she’d be facing people wailing in pain from broken limbs, with blood everywhere and loud sounds of wailing and despair. The place was more like a hotel.
Still it was a hospital that catered to the sick and infirm, and the dying. As nice as they tried to make it, there was an undercurrent of desperation hanging in the air. No one was really in control of their lives and many faced that fact in the hospital.
Gretel was jolted from her thoughts when a man sat in front of her. He coughed and wheezed into his hand. She looked up at him and his eyes met hers. When he smiled, she gave him a smile and then rose to her feet. She wasn’t going to sit there with a stranger staring at her, or worse, catch whatever he had. After squirting out some antibacterial hand wash from the dispenser on the wall, she set off on her journey to Ward 3.
Where’s Jack?
The corridor to Ward 3 split into two. Still rubbing the hand sanitizer into her hands, she chose the left side and walked slowly, hoping to hear Jack’s voice in one of the rooms.
Why’s it taking so long? she wondered
Then she heard him at the third door along. He was talking with another man.
She moved closer and listened at the door. It was someone other than Jack who was talking now. From the sound of the medical words it had to be Monica’s doctor.
“She retained the bullet in the glenohumeral joint, which is the ball and socket joint of the shoulder. We managed to retrieve the bullet avoiding chondral injury. Irrigation and debridement were performed to guard against inflammation and of course infection, but she’s not out of the woods yet.”
He talked more about her having loss of the use of her arm and severe pain. Gretel felt bad. She looked down in her bag at the phone the crooks had given her. There was still plenty of battery left. If they were responsible for what happened to Tosh and Monica, why hadn’t they called?
Gretel walked away, and seeing the group of chairs she’d been waiting at was now free again, she wandered back and sat down.
Chapter Ten
Gretel jumped to her feet when she saw Jack walking toward her.
“How is she?”
“She’ll live. She might need extensive therapy. In fact, she will need extensive therapy. Possible follow up surgery, too.”
“I heard some of it. I was listening at the door.”
“It’s not good.”
“Did you speak with her?”
He shook his head. “They gave her something to dull the pain, and it makes her sleepy. It’s not good, Gretel. I'll have to get you home now.”
They walked down the corridor to the elevator and arrived just as someone was walking out of it. They got in and Jack pressed the button.
“Are you sure you want to go home? Is there anyone you can stay with?”
“No, I'll be all right at home. I feel safe there,” Gretel said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. And I’ll take an iron tablet and try to eat better.”
Jack walked Gretel up to her apartment right to the door and waited until she had closed the door behind her and locked it.
Gretel called Kent and brought him up-to-date with what had happened with Monica and the other FBI agent. He was shocked and warned Gretel to be careful. “Marty and I both agreed that it's best you tell Jack about those men who want you to steal the diamond for them. They're FBI for crying out loud. They'll come up with a plan to catch them.”
“And get myself or my family killed in the process, no thanks. I'll come up with a plan myself, one that includes me walking away with the Purple Promise.”
“It's not worth getting yourself killed over, is it?”
“I won't get myself killed over it.”
“You'll have the FBI after you and those crooks. How do you think that's going to end, hmm?”
“Good, like it always does.”
“It didn't go so well for you last time, did it?” Kent said.
“Hey, who are you to lecture me?”
Kent laughed. “Point taken.”
“That was only because of Ryan Castle, and that reminds me, have you tracked him down yet?”
“Still working on it.”
“Forget Ryan for the moment and concentrate on those men.”
“You've got to give me more to go on.”
“I would if I could come up with something else, but I haven't got anything more to go on.”
“Try—think of something. You said you would.”
“I said something might come to me that I might remember. I didn't say it would for certain.”
“Gretel, it might be the wrong time to ask but the new Star Wars moving is coming out.”
She grimaced. “And?” She knew what was coming.
“Come with me to see it on the big screen?”
"This isn’t a good time, Kent.”
&
nbsp; “It’s Star Wars. It’ll take your mind off your troubles.”
“What’s so good about Star Wars?"
“That's quite a hard question to answer.”
“Try me. I want to understand. I’ve never gotten why people like it so much and get so obsessed about it.”
“It’s hard to answer because there are soon to be 11 films, and there are 381 books to date, about 6 TV series with 2 more in production, countless video games and comic books which all contribute to the storyline of the Star Wars universe.”
It wasn’t a surprise to Gretel that he could rattle off so many facts. He was a genius, after all.
He continued, barely drawing a breath, “As for fans, there are countless amounts of entertainment if you want to delve further into the stories and backstories which all stemmed from the original film made by George Lucas in 1977.”
“Was it that long ago?”
“Yes and I know what you’re thinking. Cinematically, the original films were ahead of their time. The special effects, sound design and composition are unique to the films and paved the way for future filmmakers. The story is of good and evil, or light versus dark.”
Gretel sighed. “Don’t start with the good and bad, black and white, dark and light stuff.” With her father being an evangelistic minister she’d heard enough about the dark and the light side to last six lifetimes.
“An orphan boy who represents hope against an Empire that wreaks havoc in the Galaxy.”
“Why is it always a boy or a man in these movies? Never a girl or a young woman unless it’s a movie about vampires. Even then the main character has a boyfriend, so it’s not really just about a girl or a woman. It’s so annoying. It’s always been a man’s world, so I shouldn’t really be annoyed by it, but I am.”
He ignored her, so caught up was he in his long drawn-out declaration of fondness for his obsession. “Darth Vader is the Emperor's apprentice, and some would say he's the iconic villain on the big screen. He’s my favorite character.”
Gretel giggled. She could relate to Kent liking the villain since he’d so often been her right-hand man in the many heists she’d completed. “That sounds about right. I remember watching the first film and he was the one doing the heavy breathing. I know the main characters. Almost everyone at least knows them, even if they don’t follow the theme—the franchise, or whatever you call it.”
Controlled (Gretel Koch Jewel Thief Book 2) Page 6
